


Just Passing Through

by indigo_carter



Series: Supernatural Smut [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, GIEPP, Girl In Every Port Project, One Night Stand, Smut, i mean who wouldn't jump at the chance of sleeping with dean winchester?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:52:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4669025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_carter/pseuds/indigo_carter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: #8 from the June GIEPP</p><p>Character: Dean</p><p>Author: Frankie (seducing-winchesters)</p><p>Reader Gender: Female</p><p>Word Count: 2,500+</p><p>Warnings: Quite a dom!Dean (I do like me a domineering man)…one night stand?</p><p>A/N: This is for the Girl In Every Port Project, and is actually based on my own experiences working on a cigarette kiosk, combined with a liberal helping of imagination…although, to be honest, working a cigarette kiosk is dull, back-breaking work, and frankly if you don’t let your imagination run riot while you’re doing it you’ll probably go mad!</p><p>Also, I’m so sorry this is so heinously late. I’ve never had to organise setting up phone lines and internet before, and it shouldn’t have taken 3 months either way!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Passing Through

The evening was crawling – there was less than half an hour left of your shift, and you were beginning to think about cashing up and closing down the superstore cigarette kiosk you worked weekends to pay the bills. Popping the till to begin your cash count, you became aware of a looming presence on the other side of your counter, and looking up you let out the smallest gasp possible and took a step back. The man leaning towards you was gorgeous. There was no other word for it. Almost mouth-watering, in fact, and you attempted to surreptitiously wipe the inside of your wrist over your mouth.

“Can I help?” Thank god for force of habit – there was no way anything unscripted was going to leave your mouth. You could have sworn the Sahara had suddenly taken up residence on your tongue as you swallowed furiously. Why did the attractive ones never turn up when you were fresh and witty at the beginning of your shift? Why always at the end when your patience was worn thin and all you wanted was your bed?

“Yeah, a pack of menthols, please.” He spoke briefly, but not brusquely. You glanced at the man as you turned to the cabinet.

“Any preference?”

“What would you go for?” He leaned a little closer. His voice had a smile in it, and you coughed out a laugh as you looked at him over your shoulder.

“You’re assuming I smoke.” You raised an eyebrow as you rested your weight on one leg, your ass sticking out more than strictly necessary.

“I’m assuming that since you sell them, you’ve probably tried them.” The smile in his voice became a laugh as you turned back to the cabinet and plucked out the one brand of menthols you’d ever tried. Scanning the barcode and sliding them across the counter top to the guy, you ran your eyes over him again.

“Anything else?” He slapped a 12-pack of condoms and a crate of beer next to the cigarettes, muscles flexing temptingly, and you heart sank a little. Fixing your perfect customer service smile on your face, you scanned his remaining items and repeated your question. “Is that everything?”

“Nah, what time do you get off?” He peered at your name badge and looked at your face before adding, “Y/N. Pretty. It suits you. Rolls well off the tongue.” You rolled your eyes and leaned across the counter towards him.

“I’ve got another fifteen minutes. Just need to close down.”

“I can wait.” You smiled shyly at him, before processing his shopping and sliding it to the end of the counter.

“You passing through?”

“Yeah, my brother and I travel a lot.”

“Sounds good. Being stuck in one town starts to grate after a while.” Resignation crept into your voice. You’d been restless your entire life, and your wanderlust had only grown as you’d become older. College hadn’t happened for one reason or another, and now you felt trapped.

“Hah, don’t knock it! What wouldn’t I give for a front door and a key and somewhere to call my own?” His own frustration with his circumstances slipped into his voice, and your reappraised the man standing before you.

“I guess that part is nice.” You agreed quietly, moving as fast as you dared to pack up your department and get out on time. The shutter over the cigarettes seemed to take forever to come down, and the man continued chatting to you as you stood helplessly waiting for the technology to get itself into gear. As you (finally) stepped out from behind your counter, his hand slipped straight to the small of your back and he fell into step beside you, his shopping bag looped around his wrist.

“In case you weren’t going to get around to asking – the name’s Dean.” You let out a nervous giggle and ducked your head.

“Rookie error, always find out the name of the guy hanging around your desk when you sell him ciggies. Must remember that.” You looked at him through your lashes and caught a glimpse of the most stunning grin you’d ever seen.

“Ok, fair point.” His hand slid a little lower as you stretched through the hatch to swipe your clock card and he gave your ass a squeeze which make you squeak. “You make pretty damn cute noises, you know that?”

“If you say so.” You pretended to stick your nose in the air, and led the way back out of the store. You paused outside the door, turning back to look at him, and smiled anxiously. “I-” His hands landed on your waist, the crate of beer banging against your leg as he crowded towards you and pressed you against the wall, his lips millimetres from yours.

“If you don’t want this, say so now. I swear I’ll leave and never come back.”

“Shit, don’t do that, please don’t do that.” Dean’s worried look morphed into a leer.

“So you want this?”

“Hell yes.” With barely a moment to breathe in, his lips landed on yours, tentative at first then deepening the pressure until all you could feel was him and the growing heat between you. His hips pressed against yours, pushing you harder against the wall, one hand in your hair, the other on your waist. Digging your fingers into his biceps you pressed towards him, bitterly resentful of the amount of clothes you had on.

“Your place or mine?” He pulled away, trailed his lips to your cheek, the sensitive spot below your earlobe, and whispered into your skin.

“Mine.” It emerged on a moan and you shoved him away from you, grabbing his hand in yours and practically running towards the car.

You drove to your apartment in silence, Dean’s hand creeping up your thigh, pushing your work skirt higher until one side was rucked around your hip and his fingertips were playing with the edge of your panties.

Climbing out of the car, you rounded to Dean’s side as he stepped out and closed the door; instantly he pressed you against the side of the car and attacked your neck with his lips, teeth grazing your pulse, his large hands nearly spanning your waist as he effortlessly lifted you higher.

“Inside,” you gasped, wriggling down and tugging on your skirt, “before someone looks out and sees us.” Winking at him you led the way into your building and pressed the button for the elevator. Once inside, Dean dropped his bag and slunk towards you, pressing you into the corner. Throbbing need thrummed through you, and you grabbed his jacket, sliding your hands underneath and slipping them under his numerous shirts to feel his skin beneath. His mouth met yours sloppily, with open-mouthed, wet kisses which made you moan and whimper, his hands on your thighs, pushing your skirt up again until he could hook his fingers into your waist band and tug. In one movement, he ripped your panties from you and slid one hand between your legs. Ding. The elevator reached your floor, and once again you parted, picking up Dean’s bag and taking him by the hand to lead him to your apartment.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, crowding you forward into your front door, mouthing at your neck and ear, one hand sliding up to rest gently against your throat, and you tipped your head back onto his shoulder.

“Open the door,” he commanded firmly, mouth finally leaving your skin. Your head span and your knees buckled as you slipped the key into the lock and turned. As soon as the door was open, he was pushing you forwards again and kicking the door closed behind you.

As soon as you were inside he was bending you over the phone table and rutting against your ass, his hard-on evident through his jeans, and you melted. One of his hands worked its way into your hair and pulled and the delicate strain on your throat combined with the jolts of pleasure spiking through you at the sensation of his cock had you panting. The phone clattered to the floor as you scrabbled for purchase on the table top (why did I buy the marble one again?) and that made him pull you upright and spin you around and press you against the wall.

“How do you want to do this?” His eyes were dark, the pupils blown, and you had a desperate need to slowly strip each and every item of clothing off him like he was a long-awaited present to be consumed.

“Bed?” You shimmed closer to him, your fingers creeping up to the shoulders of his jacket and tugging it off, dropping it on the floor. He returned the favour, sliding your suit jacket off and adding it to the pile. He shucked his shoes, but stopped you stepping from your heels with a firm “no”. You smiled seductively and let your ass lead him to your room.

Once inside, he closed the door and stalked towards you where you’d sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Tonight, you’re mine.” His voice was low, a rumble catching in his throat. “All mine.” He pushed your shoulders back onto the bed and crawled over you, hovering low over your stomach and pressing your upper chest into the bed with his forearm. “You’re never gonna forget tonight, you understand me?”

“Yes, Dean.” You gasped.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.” You gave yourself over to him, relinquishing control over your body. You knew he could feel you relax under him, and the wolfish, predatory grin which spread over his face only confirmed the feeling. He lifted away from you and pulled you with him, making you stand in front of him as he sat down on the edge of the bed again. He palmed the bulge in his pants, and laced the fingers of one hand in your hair, bending you towards him so his lips were by your ear.

“Strip.” It was whispered, gravelly, and you felt compelled to obey.

“Yes, sir.” You mumbled, stepping away from him as he released your hair. With shaking fingers, you unbuttoned your shirt, letting it drop away from your body and land on the floor. Soon, it was joined by your skirt, and you stood wearing nothing but bra and heels.

“Stop.” You paused, hands reaching for your bra clasp. “Turn around.” You slowly spun on the spot until you were facing away from him, and his large, warm hands stroked up the outside of your thighs, cupping your hips and slid over the curve of your waist to neatly unsnap your bra. He pushed the straps from your shoulders, and let it drop in front of you. His hands slid forwards, over your shoulders, and cupped your breasts, feeling their weight and teasing your nipples, before running his hands down your flanks and dipping his thumbs into the sensitive crevice between thigh and hip. He stood behind you, and lifted you onto the bed before hurriedly removing his own clothes and adding to the pile on the floor. His erection was more impressive than you’d been expecting and it made pleasure spike through you, settling into a purring thrum of heat between your legs. Dark and curving and hard, you could see his throbbing need coursing through him, and you lay back on the bed. He fumbled in his shopping bag and pulled out the box of condoms, scrabbling at the plastic until he could rip the box open and pull out a foil packet. Crawling towards you up the bed, Dean hovered over you again, his hand sliding over your thigh and hip, the softness of your stomach, tweaking the pebbled nipple as he passed, and continuing to rise until it rested against your throat again.

“I want to be gentle, Y/N, but I also want you so damn bad that I don’t know if I can hold back.” His eyes glittered in the comparative darkness of your room, the only illumination being the streetlight filtering through the blinds.

“I won’t break, Dean, I swear.” He growled in response, grinding his hips against you before pulling back and rolling on the condom. Sliding his hands from your ankles to your knees, he gently tugged your legs open and knelt between them. Reaching down, you took the head of his cock in your hand, slowly working your hand up and down his length. He let out a guttural groan and pressed his face into your neck, before rubbing your clit with a delicious pressure, causing you to keen and part your legs further. He grunted as he slid a fingertip around your soaking folds and circling your entrance. It was as if feeling your arousal snapped the sheen of control he had over himself, and he pulled one of your legs up until your thigh was pressed to your chest before sliding inside you with one smooth movement.

He paused there a moment, his hips flush with yours, eyes fixed on yours, one hand on your throat and the other beside your head. Abruptly he began to move, his hips snapping into yours, his rhythm swift and almost brutal, and your hips rolled up to meet him almost without volition. His length and girth stretched you perfectly, and as he thrust forward he hit your sweet spot causing you to let out a keen of pleasure.

“Shit, you’re perfect,” he ground out, changing his technique and raising himself onto his knees above you, his fingers gripping the headboard. You pressed your feet into the bed and lifted your hips to meet him. The change in angle made the tip of his cock rub along the top of your inner wall, keeping almost constant contact with your G-spot, and within moments he had you writhing beneath him, the fingers of one hand sliding over your own hip towards your aching clit. He was watching you, and you felt a blush creep over you. Meeting his eyes, you deliberately let your fingertips rub tight, hard circles into your clit and let out a high-pitched moan as your walls began to flutter. He groaned in response to both the sensation and the sight.

Each of you egged the other on, until abruptly the coil of hot pleasure which had been growing in your belly tightened and burst, your muscles clenching with the waves of ecstasy which washed over you. Your orgasm pushed him over the edge, and you felt his cock pulsating within you. He continued thrusting until he was soft inside you, and he dropped onto his elbows, his body covering yours. You pressed kisses into his temple until he turned his head and you captured his lips with yours. He kissed like it was an art form, an event in itself, and you felt yourself melting even more beneath him. Pulling out and lifting himself off you, Dean disposed of the condom and settled back into bed beside you, tugging the covers over both of you, pulling you into his arms and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You lay in companionable silence, fingers tracing patterns over each other’s bodies until you drifted to sleep.

When he left early the following morning, you curled up in a ball, his number in your phone and a seed of affection in your heart. Six months later, when your phone flashed up Dean’s name, you knew you’d say yes to whatever he wanted.


End file.
